


She's In Deep

by wanderinghooves



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, Canon Compliant, Cute Ending, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Magic, Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them Spoilers, New York City, Newt Scamander's Suitcase, Pining, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Some Gory Details, Tina-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 12,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderinghooves/pseuds/wanderinghooves
Summary: Newt Scamander is back in England and Tina Goldstein is left with a serious thrill deficiency, despite regaining her status as MACUSA Auror. Her sleepy day job begins to revitalize, however, when she stumbles into possesion of a mystery beast in the depths of New York. Throw in a teasing sister along with a rekindling flame from across the Atlantic, and things start to look interesting.





	1. Chapter 1

Click. Click. Click.

Tina’s eyelids threaten to droop, and she shakes herself with some annoyance.

Click. Click.

Frowning, she jams the button down again.

Nothing.

“You’re kidding me…”

Frustrated despite her exhaustion, she mutters a few choice expletives as she tugs at the dry ink ribbon, only to be rewarded with the typewriter lurching forward and off her desk. 

Tina regards it there in the floor for a long moment.

Leaning against her desk, she buries her face in her hands with a lengthy sigh.

Auror work had seemed so glamorous, she thinks ruefully, when one wasn’t doing it. She recalls hours spent in the dredges of the Wand Registration Office, longing to be back in an office with a door and a badge, fantasizing about running the streets of New York in pursuit of some criminal or another. 

Running her hands through her hair, she glances at the minuscule MACUSA barometer hovering at the corner of her desk. 

As it has for weeks, the tiny hand stubbornly remains at the edge of the LOW THREAT quadrant, and her shoulders sink further. 

Tina rubs the bridge of her nose. There hasn’t been anything interesting in forever. 

Well, not since one Mr. Newt Scamander and his case full of beasts had departed the city.

She grins slightly despite herself, recalling the insanity of it all. Catching a subway-sized Occamy in a teapot had been one for the books, not to mention chasing a certain wily Niffler the length of New York-

Any further reminiscing is derailed by a sharp rap at her door.

With some embarrassment, Tina snaps up instantly and hurries across the office, opening the door smartly to reveal a rather rushed-looking Auror. 

“President ordered a raid down in Harlem, Goldstein. You’d better hurry.”

A thrill shoots up her spine. 

“Got it.”

Snatching her coat and hat from the nearby stand, she darts out into the hall after him.

The lift ride seems to last decades, and the goblin bellboy Red smirks at her expense as she fidgets.

“Kneazle up your coat, Goldstein?”

She manages to draw herself up despite her excitement, fixing him with a look.

“Auror assignment, Red. Very important.”

The goblin raises his eyebrows at that; incredulously or not, she can’t tell. He does, however, let her off promptly as the lift arrives at the lobby. 

Sprinting between the gaggles of employees and through the revolving door, Tina grips her wand in her pocket as she whips out of existence.


	2. Chapter 2

She pops back into being along 106th street, and is immediately bombarded with a million different sights and sounds. 

Innumerable cars and buses steam, honk, and rattle past as a man leans against a storefront, belting out a tune on a silver trumpet for a throng of clapping admirers.

She feels herself jostled as a woman brushes past with an armful of groceries, a child jogging along behind her, and catches sight of a brown leather cloak disappearing into an alleyway. 

Apologizing as she elbows her way through a few pedestrians, Tina hurries around the corner, where she is met by the sight of half a dozen Aurors crowded against the bricking. 

The man nearest by (Gonzales, she recalls) glances up, motioning her over.

“Goldstein. Good to have you back.”

She warms at that. 

“What’ve we got, sir?”

He gestures forward; a tall, dark Auror heads the group. 

“Robinson’s about to brief us.”

As if on cue, the man in question produces a roll of notes, scrutinizing it as thin black ink scrawls itself out along the parchment. 

“Smuggling ring, it looks like. Illegal magical substance trafficking and sales to No-Majs under the front of voodoo charms.”

Robinson stuffs the parchment away, returning his attention to the group. 

“President seemed to think this guy is a decent problem. O’Neil and I will deal with him, the rest of you clear out as much contraband as you can.”

Tina resists the sudden, bizarre urge to grin like a schoolgirl while Robinson continues. Finally, her first Auror raid in ages.

“Follow me.”

The group continues deep into the alley, the bustle of the main avenue fading behind them as the hissing of pipes and crunch of glass underfoot increases.

Abruptly, Robionson holds up a hand. 

“Stop here.”

Tina peers around the brown cloaks in front of her, seeing nothing but the grimy brick of the opposite building. 

"Goldstein!”

She jumps at Robinson’s address, startled.

“Sir?”

Gonzales nudges her forward as Robinson turns to her.

“You’re pretty decent at counter-curses, aren’t you?”

She straightens a little. 

“Proficient, sir.”

He grunts at that.

“Go ahead.”

Realizing the attention of the group is now focused upon her, Tina pauses momentarily before drawing her wand at the brick before her.

_“Finite Incantatum.”_

Momentarily she fears that nothing has in fact happened, but then a portion of the wall in front of her seems to ripple as the brick melts away into the shape of a weather-beaten, rotting door. 

“Good work, Goldstein.”

She hears Robinson turn, addressing the others.

“Alright. O’Neil and I are heading in first, but everybody keep wand arms at the ready.”

A short, red-haired witch steps forward, wand in hand.

“Ready, sir.”

Robinson nods.

“Good. Then let’s go.”

And then, in what can only be described as the most New York of tactics, he promptly turns and kicks the door in.


	3. Chapter 3

Surprisingly, they aren’t met with an immediate volley of curses and traps, but this silence only makes Tina more cautious. Following Gonzales in, she summons light with a whispered _Lumos,_ taking in her surroundings as she creeps forward.

The dwelling is visibly aged, and she observes with a frown that the floor seems to be covered in a layer of dust and cobweb. It’s odd, almost as if the hideout hasn’t been inhabited for quite some time. 

Narrowing her eyes, she casts another _Finite_ ; the dust evaporates, replaced with dark wooden floors covered in-

“Clawmarks?”

She looks up to meet Gonzales’s quizzical gaze. 

“I thought this wizard was supposed to be trafficking illegal potions and things, not...”

“Not creatures,” she finishes his thought grimly.

Shouldering past him, Tina follows the deepest marks down the passage. Whatever beasts had made them certainly seemed to have been in deep distress, as here and there whole chunks are missing from the floorboards, accompanied by deep scours along the walls. 

The anguished tracks seem to end at a heavy iron door; Tina is certain it’s been covered in anti-unlocking charms. Raising her wand, she slashes it in front of the door with ferocity. 

_“Reducto!”_

Part of the metal explodes, but whoever had charmed the door had done a good job of it, as much of it remains intact. 

Gonzales ambles up behind her, casting a _Reducto_ as well. The curse must be repeated several times, until finally the iron buckles on its hinges and caves into the room before them. 

Stepping over the door’s remains, Tina advances slowly into the space.

_“Lumos Maximus.”_

Holding her wand aloft, Tina illuminates the entire room, recoiling at what she sees.

Countless stacks of flasks, cages, and boxes fill the room. Nearest to her she sees a sheath of unidentified fangs and claws, while across the room severed horns shine with a pearly-white substance, suspended from rope like a butcher’s counter. Bottles litter a shelf, filled with what appeared to be multicolored fluids and pickled appendages of all consistencies and sizes. A particularly unpleasant container gleams a dull maroon, filled with congealed blood. 

She gasps as her foot hits a small cage on the floor, a tiny skeleton curled up inside amongst a handful of silver coins. 

It’s like Newt Scamander’s case out of a nightmare. Her stomach flips, imagining his face at these innumerable atrocities, and she forces bile back down in her throat. 

Gonzales’s wandlight joins hers as he crosses the disordered room, clearly disgusted.

“Poor monsters.”

Beasts, she thinks forcefully. Magical beasts. Not monsters.

“Keep moving.”

She is surprised at the slight crack in her own voice.

Before he can reply, Tina moves away, irrationally determined to witness the horrors visited on these creatures. 

She shifts a few boxes aside, each containing various swatches of fur and scales. Underneath she finds what can only be an Occamy skin, the proud blue and purple scales dulled from storage. Her eyes prick, but she manages to pry the skin from its mounting, fury kindling in her gut.

“Who could have done this?”

As if in response, she hears a crash come from upstairs, followed by a muffled shout of _“Oppugno!”_ and several subsequent sounds of smashing objects. 

She glances rapidly back at Gonzales, whose attention is now fixed on the ceiling. 

Looking up as well, her jaw clenches as she sees jagged cracks beginning to form there, spells audibly intensifying above her. 

Glancing around fiercely, Tina begins to grab as many of the wretched items as are within arm’s reach. 

“What are you doing?”

Gonzales has returned his harried attention to her, and Tina fixes him with a fierce stare.

“Listen. That wizard is going to try to bring the building down. To erase the eviden-”

Her words are drowned out by a scream of _“Confringo!”_

The whole building shakes, walls splintering, and she sees a shelf topple onto Gonzales, pinning him to the ground where he’s attempted to retrieve a canister of tiny, pickled creatures. 

“Go!” 

She screams the order at him, and he vanishes with a crack as the shelf collapses entirely. 

Now completely alone in the crumbling room, Tina spins around in one final, wild survey and sees it. 

An egg. Practically hidden behind a stack of dismembered hooves, but it looks so familiar-

Diving forward, she wraps her arms around the object, warping herself away from the hellish building as the ceiling finally caves in where she’d been standing moments ago.


	4. Chapter 4

Tina reappears violently in an alleyway off Broadway, still protectively clutching the egg to herself as she ricochets against the nearest wall and collapses. 

She lies against the cobbles for several moments, chest heaving.

“Mercy Lewis…”

With effort, she picks herself back up, dusting the soot off her coat with a huff as her breath finally begins to slow.

She glances quickly at the egg before her, giving momentary pause; shaking her head, she stuffs it into an interior pocket of her overcoat before hastening out across the street to the Woolworth Building. 

A hurried wand-flick allows Tina entrance to MACUSA’s main landing, and she doesn’t break her quick stride until she is up the steps and into the lift. 

Once again, Red scoffs at her preoccupation.

“You’re quite the sight, Goldstein.”

She quickly wipes a streak of soot from her cheek with her sleeve.

“Major Investigation Department, Red.”

The goblin has hardly opened the lift doors before Tina darts out, clutching her coat pockets. 

The hallway is dim, but Tina moves with purpose, shouldering through a foreboding doorway and into the dark meetingroom. 

She can make out Robinson’s voice as she approaches, along with that of President Picquery.

“…Like he had something to hide. It was all real shady. Why blow up your own hideout?”

Rounding a tall row of shelves, Tina sweeps into the central hub of the room. Robinson has his back to her, but Picquery observes her entrance with some acknowledgement. 

“Goldstein. Anything to add?” 

Tina digs into her pockets as she approached the meeting table.

“Yes, ma’am. A few things, actually.”

She places several objects beside Robinson, who glanced down with slight interest. Of the innumerable incriminating items she’d witnessed in the now-collapsed room, Tina has managed to salvage the Occamy skin, as well as the container of dark blood and several vials of other creature substances. 

Most intriguing is a thin flask of pearly-white liquid, which seems to swirl of its own accord. 

“All of these items were found in a secured store-room in that building, ma’am. I expect this was the sort of thing the perpetrator was smuggling and selling.”

Picquery considers the items, two thin fingers steepled in front of her mouth. 

“I see. Interim Director, does this aid your report at all?”

Tina glances at the other Auror, and is confused to find his eyes fixed on the thin flask. 

“Robinson?”

“Yes ma’am. This certainly clears up why our perp was so eager to off his own place.”

Robinson pauses, and then continues with a strain in his voice.

“Ma’am, that there is Unicorn blood.”

Tina sees Picquery’s jaw tighten.

“Unicorn blood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Unicorns are an Extremely Endangered Species. That’s a breach of the Preservation Decree.”

Picquery’s hawklike attention is then focused on Tina.

“Is this all, Goldstein?”

Subconsciously, Tina’s hand goes for her interior pocket and the egg, but she forces it back down.

“…Yes, ma’am. That’s all I managed to recover before the building collapsed.”

Picquery’s eyes remain trained on her, but she nods slowly. 

“I see. You’re dismissed.”

Tina dips her head graciously.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turns to leave, but the President’s voice catches her once more.

“And Goldstein?”

“Ma’am?”

Picquery pauses, taking in Tina’s bedraggled appearance with a wry smile.

“Take tomorrow off.”

Tina’s eyes widen slightly at the small kindness, but she maintains propriety.

“Thank you, ma’am.”


	5. Chapter 5

Tina catches the lift back downstairs, allowing herself to lean against the iron wearily. Thankfully, Red doesn’t offer a comment, and she crosses the emptying lobby with similar ease. 

The evening air is crisp for early April, and Tina pulls the edges of her coat tighter around herself. She feels the egg in the interior pocket jostle against her chest, and pushes it deeper into the fabric with some force as she Disapparates.

Reappearing along 24th Street, Tina treads along the sidewalk to the entrance of the familiar brownstone. 

Carefully cracking the door open, she slips inside, anxious to avoid the building’s proprietor. Fortunately, Mrs. Esposito makes no appearance, and Tina jogs up the steps unencumbered. 

She’s hardly entered the small apartment before a lighthearted voice calls out from the back room.

“Teenie! You’re home!”

Tina smiles despite herself, shrugging off her coat as her sister appears. 

“Hi, Queenie.”

Her sister hugs her excitedly. 

“I baked us potato knishes for dinner! And the No-Maj way, too, isn’t it quaint?”

Tina narrows her eyes at her sister.

“The No-Maj way, huh?”

Realizing that she’s given herself away, Queenie glances up, chewing her lip. 

Tina’s chest drops. She really doesn’t want to have this dispute now, but sometimes Queenie can be so-

“You’ve been seeing Mr. Kowalski again, haven’t you?”

It’s inevitable.

Queenie frowns at the ceiling, crossing her arms with a huff as she prepares her argument.

“Maybe I have.”

A pause.

“And maybe I’m going to keep seeing Jacob, no matter what you say.”

This line seems to embolden her, as she meets Tina’s eyes with defiance. 

“He does remember me, you know. At least a little.”

Tina hangs her head slightly, unable to quarrel with her. 

“I know. Or at least I’d suspected.”

Queenie’s gaze continues to drill into her skull, and Tina knows she’s been beaten.

“Just don’t get yourself caught, Queenie.”

Her sister brightens instantly at this, catching Tina’s shoulders affectionately. 

“Aw, Teenie. I won’t. I like Jacob too much to get us in trouble.”

Smiling winningly, Queenie flits away towards the apartment’s tiny kitchen, where she produces two steaming pastries from the oven. 

“Now, enough about me, let’s get you fed!”

Having a Legilimens for a sibling, Tina ponders as she eats, can be incredibly annoying. In instances like this, however, when she is too tired or preoccupied to talk, it makes communication much more bearable. She can tell Queenie is inquisitive about her dirty appearance and late return home, so she simply allows the events of the day to unfold at the top of her mind.

She continues to eat in silence for several moments as she feels Queenie skim through her memories, lingering on those of the raid with concern. 

“Teenie…”

“It’s fine, Queenie, really.”

She isn’t going to stop there, Tina realizes unhappily. 

“It upset you. A whole lot.”

“Well, I hate seeing bad things happen.”

Her sister clearly doesn’t fall for that either, shaped brows furrowing deeply as she attempts to continue digging.

“It reminded you of Newt?”

She’d really hoped Queenie wouldn’t bring that up.

Tina stares determinedly at her plate, focusing on pushing her sister the rest of the way out of her mind. This is the kind of thing that makes her Legilimency infuriating. 

“This is none of your business.”

Tina stands up swiftly, pushing her chair in with more force than is necessary. Magicking her dishes towards the sink, she retrieves her coat from the rack and sweeps into the bathroom. 

She’d been harsh with Queenie, she knows. She vents her sudden frustration by scrubbing at her coat, bubbles of dirt disappearing into the sink drain. But it wasn’t her sister’s business to question her work, and besides, her thoughts don’t belong to-

Thud.

All irritation with Queenie is forgotten as the egg slips out of her coat pocket and into the sink in front of her.

Casting a glance at the door, Tina hesitates before cautiously retrieving it from the collection of grime.


	6. Chapter 6

Squinting, she inspects the egg at eye level. 

It’s an Occamy, she’s fairly certain. A bit large and a bit dull, but otherwise it seems similar enough to those shells she’d witnessed in Newt Scamander’s case. 

She tosses her mostly-clean coat in the direction of a drying rack as she enters the bedroom, preoccupied.

The proper Auror in Tina insists on marching right back to MACUSA the next morning and turning the thing over as evidence. This is quickly overruled, however, by a more reckless side of her mind that demands the egg remain in her possession; surely the evidence locker would just toss this marvelous creature out to rot. 

Besides, and the thought rises unbidden, the egg is the only thing from that hellish building with a chance of survival. 

Carefully wrapping the egg in a coverlet, she sets it on the corner of her bed as she goes for a shower.

Returning to the bedroom feeling much revitalized, Tina stops awkwardly as she catches sight of Queenie reading quietly in bed.

She dawdles in the doorway for a bit, before mentally scolding herself and sitting down on her bed across from her sister. 

“I’m sorry.”

Queenie apparently pretends not to hear, content to flick to her next page silently. Tina, however, continues.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. I know you just want to help. So…thank you.”

Queenie sighs, placing her book down delicately as she finally meets her sister’s gaze.

“It’s alright, Teenie.”

Tina fidgets, grateful, as her sister speaks.

“I just wish you’d let people help you out, you know? You don’t have to be a big bad Auror all the time.”

“Yeah.”

Queenie cracks a smile.

“Hug?”

Tina returns the grin sheepishly.

“Hug.”

She crosses the room, allowing herself to be enveloped by Queenie’s strangling affection. After a long moment, her sister releases her, fixing her with a mischievous look.

“So, tell me about this creature you smuggled home.”

Tina rubs the back of her neck, at a loss.

“I really don’t know. I just saw it in that room among all those other awful things, and I felt like I had to save it.”

“And you didn’t turn it over to the President?”

“No. I just…I didn’t think MACUSA would treat it very well, given their typical attitude towards beasts.”

She pauses, smirking a little.

“Although it seems like the President does have a soft spot for Unicorns.”

Queenie giggles at that, putting her at ease, and a brief amiable silence forms.

“So you think it’s an Occamy?”

Tina shrugs.

“That’s my only idea. I wouldn’t know of anything else.”

“How cute! We can keep it in the spare kettle.”

“Queenie, that was a one-time emergency.”

Her sister sticks her tongue out.

“Well, what do you suggest, Misses Magizoologist?”

Tina chucks a pillow, catching Queenie right in her cheeky face.

“I suggest you go to sleep, know-it-all.”

Tina sleeps fitfully that night.

She dreams that she is back in the smuggling house, blowing the door open one more with a fierce Reducto. But this time it isn’t Gonzales with her.

It’s Newt Scamander.

Once more she steps into the dark room, but now she hears his cries of indignation and fury along with her own as her wand illuminates the hideous objects, now joined by caged members of his menagerie. She turns to see him trying to wrest a very alive Niffler from a crate on the floor, but it’s too late and even as the ceiling caves in she is begging, pleading with him to go, to get out, but he won’t go, won’t leave without the creatures, and then she’s Disapparating away when she sees him crushed under the rubble of the building. 

She bolts awake in bed, sweating; she’s running a clammy hand over her face when she realizes she’s holding the egg to her chest. 

“Teenie?”

She whips around, harried, but it’s only Queenie, half-asleep yet clearly concerned. Tina measures her breaths, attempting to calm her frenzied mind for her sister’s sake.

“I’m okay, Queenie. Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”

Her sister mumbles something along the lines of ‘if you say so’, but quickly drifts back off regardless. Tina lies awake a while longer until she finally falls into a shallow slumber against Queenie’s soft snoring, the egg still pressed against her.


	7. Chapter 7

Tina wakes up late the next morning. Queenie is already gone to the office, though she does find a note and a magically warmed bowl of porridge waiting for her as she sleepily enters the apartment’s kitchen.

She smiles, once again grateful for her sister.

Picquery had given her the day off, Tina recalls, but she’s never been one for inactivity. She dumps the porridge bowl into the sink as she finishes, resolving to call in to the office anyway for something to do.

She’s about to grab her coat from the stand in the bedroom when she notices the egg again, tangled amongst her sheets. 

Tina’s brows furrow. Was it always that…blue?

After a pause, she retrieves it, balancing it in her palms. 

Oddly, it seems heavier, and as she goes to tuck it into her interior coat pocket, she notices it requires a little more force than the previous day. 

Alright. Now she’s curious. 

She certainly can’t leave whatever beast it is alone in the apartment, so Tina tosses her coat on, resolving to investigate this as she heads out the door.

There’s a small wizarding bookstore near Lower Manhattan, and she turns up her coat collar against the breeze as she approaches, having Apparated nearby. It’s all she can think of as a starting point for info, short of visiting MACUSA’s Body for Protection of Magical Species, and given the egg’s status as seized evidence she's already cast that idea out.

A small bell rings shrilly as she enters the store. A few witches and wizards roam the stacks, but Tina is grateful to observe that it is for the most part empty. 

She catches sight of a worn directory on the nearest wall, and pauses to scrutinize it. 

Owlology, Broomology, Arithmancy…finally she reaches a promising category, archaically labeled Monstrology. Pulling a face as she imagines what a certain Magizoologist would think of the term, she finds that the section in question is located at the back of the store. 

Shouldering her way past a few overflowing shelves and a couple of witches crowded around a display of _The American Charmer_ , Tina finds herself in a rather sparse section of the shop.

Only two small shelves are crammed into the forgotten corner, a rather pathetic parchment sign denoting it as the Monstrology section in broad scrawling script. 

Unsure where to start, she reaches for the first book on the leftmost shelf, coughing as a thick cloud of dust billows out from it. 

Clearly this genre is of little interest to New York’s wizarding community, and Tina is again ruefully reminded of Newt, undoubtedly toiling away at his manuscript without any consideration to its reception. 

The cover of this book reads _Horklumps: Identification and Extermination_. Not exactly promising, she decides, shoving it back into the display. 

Tina discovers that many of the subsequent books read with similar discouraging titles: _A Treatise on Bowtruckle Harvesting, Dragon Wars in Europe 1321-1450, Kneazle Breeding for Beginners_. Finally, she wrenches a particularly ancient-looking tome from the bottom of the shelf, titled _Beastiarium Magicum_ in faded gold script. 

Flipping the yellowed pages to what appears to be an index, she scans for any relevant info. 

Her interest catches on a section labeled ‘Ova and Larvae: Reptilian and Otherwise’, and she’s about to flip to the listed page number when a reedy voice calls at her from the front of the shop.

“You gonna come pay me for that, sweetheart?”

Tina glances up to see an elderly-looking witch motioning at her from behind a cluttered desk.

“Of course, ma’am.”

She hastens over with her book, which produces a sizeable dust cloud when she sets it down on the counter. The witch coughs as she inspects the item with some incredulity.

“ _Beastiarium Magicum,_ huh? What’s got you so interested in this old thing?”

Tina attempts a nonchalant shrug, uttering the first deflection that comes to mind. 

“Just a bit of light reading.”

The witch gives her an odd squint, but totals her purchase up nonetheless.

“Three Dragots today, girlie.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She hurries out of the shop with the book tucked under her arm before the witch can question her further.


	8. Chapter 8

The Woolworth Building isn’t far from the bookshop, and Tina walks purely to kill time. She risks a brief detour into a No-Maj coffee shop, emerging with a steaming espresso that she clutches close to her chest.

Entering the MACUSA lobby, she finds herself fighting against a swarm of employees heading in the opposite direction. Lunch break, she realizes belatedly as she elbows her way past a gaggle of Obliviators and up the stairs. 

The lift is deserted, and Tina manages to catch Red as he’s about to head out as well.

“I need up to my office.”

The goblin scowls at her, but obliges nonetheless. She thinks she hears him mutter something about crazy Aurors as she departs.

Her floor is similarly vacant, but Tina is happy to collapse behind her desk, tossing the _Beastiarium Magicum_ down in front of her. Thumbing through its pages, she finally locates the necessary section dedicated to ‘Ova and Larvae’.

Frowning, she attempts to wrest meaning out of the stylized Old English print that meets her eyes.

After spending several minutes deciphering, she discovers that not only is the text ancient, it’s also incredibly vague. The small section is quite literally divided between Reptilian and Nonreptilian eggs, with hardly any detail dedicated to further differentiating members of the two categories. 

Moodily, she kicks at the typewriter still laying on the office floor.

She should really get that fixed. 

Despite the general outdatedness of the book, Tina manages to spend the rest of the afternoon poring over its contents. She goes over the Reptilian Ova section several times, digging around in her desk drawer for a ballpoint quill that she uses to mark more relevant information. 

Even after this section is exhausted, however, she finds herself still skimming the _Beastiarium’s_ pages, wandering further and further into unrelated areas. She hadn’t expected to become so engrossed.

Her fixation is eventually interrupted by the sound of her office door creaking open. Tina glances up from a chapter on Hippogriffs, seeing O’Neil’s face emerge from the doorway.

The witch hesitates, clearing her throat, and Tina realizes what a sight she must be. Her quill pen is stuffed behind her smudged ear while a coffee ring adorns her mouth, and she’s propped her feet on her desk while she reads. Thankfully the egg is in her lap, out of O’Neil’s line of sight.

She attempts to recover, shutting the _Beastiarium_ and straightening herself in her seat.

“Just came to check in on you, Goldstein. Everyone else has headed out.”

Tina smiles quickly, gathering up her materials.

“Thank you. Um…I guess I’ll be leaving, then.”

O’Neil watches her with some confusion as she reaches for her coat. 

“I thought you were out today, anyway?”

“I am. Technically. Just wanted to check up on a few things.”

Surreptitiously shoving the egg into her interior coat pocket, Tina scurries in the direction of the lift as O’Neil turns away. 

Hopefully she can catch Red in time. Seventy flights of stairs aren’t overly appealing.


	9. Chapter 9

The sky has already gone dark by the time Tina reaches the brownstone. As usual, Queenie appears to have already arrived, and Tina can hear her humming as she pushes the door open.

“Hi, Queenie. What’re you baking?”

Her sister winks happily from the kitchen.

“Well, I was just going to make us some boring old soup, but Jacob had the most incredible macaroon recipe and I had to try it!”

Tina shakes her head, smirking.

“Macaroons? For dinner?”

“No, silly. I made the soup too. These are just an indulgence.” 

Watching her sister retrieve a steaming tray from the oven, Tina pulls her coat off before bustling over and ladling herself a bowl of potato soup from the stove. 

She’s barely set herself a place at the table before Queenie wheels on her, tossing the macaroons down and fixing her with a rather impish look. 

Tina raises an eyebrow.

“Spill it.”

Queenie grins, dancing over to the counter to retrieve something.

“You got a letter today.”

“A letter? From-”

A small, slightly crumpled envelope zips over to halt under Tina’s nose.

The bluish ink has run slightly, as if the letter had been previously caught in a downpour, but she can still make out the scrawling hand.

_Miss Tina Goldstein_  
_The Upstairs Apartment_  
_679 West 24th Street_  
_Manhattan, New York_  
_The United State of America_  
_March 28th, 1927_

The address in the top left corner is far more dignified. A label in the shape of a large golden ‘M’ dominates most of the area, while the blue scrawl under it denotes the letter’s origin as the Beast Division. There’s a similar stamp on the right side denoting the letter as Pro Bubonem, but the ‘Bubo’ has been scribbled out and rewritten as ‘Setophaga striata’.

Inexplicably, Tina’s stomach suddenly feels as if she’s swallowed a bucket of boiling water.

She opens the envelope slowly, careful not to tear the edges. The letter inside has been folded messily several times, and she presses it flat on the table before her as she removes it.

Unfolding the parchment fully, she is unable to fight back a grin at the name scrawled at the bottom. Newt Scamander’s signature is haphazard but unmistakable. 

“Go on then, read it, don’t just stare at his pretty name forever.”

Tina pulls a face as Queenie goads her, but focuses her attention to the top of the letter.

“Don’t read my mind.”

The first line is surrounded in blue ink smudges, as if the author had attempted various opening statements before making up his mind.

_Dear Miss Goldstein,_

_I hope this letter reaches you in a timely manner; I must apologize for my manner of correspondence, as my only option for post is based out of my position at the Ministry of Magic._  
_Furthermore, as you might’ve noticed, I’ve sent this message in the care of a particularly dependable blackpoll warbler, given that owls have a rather nasty tendency to drown on trans-Atlantic flights. His name is Charlie, and I’d imagine he’d be quite grateful if you could spare a locust or two, or perhaps a berry, as his species tends to make such voyages nonstop over a span of three days._

She shakes her head at this before continuing. Newt, apparently, hasn’t changed a bit.

_I have not, however, primarily written to educate you on blackpoll warblers, but rather to notify you that I plan to return to New York at the end of next month. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is nearly complete, and I must reiterate my intent to personally deliver the first copy to you. I hope that you are still interested in such an exchange. Please give my regards to your sister Queenie, and as always I remain_

_Your Friend,_

_Newt Scamander_

Tina rereads the last paragraph several times, a peculiar sense of childish excitement building. 

Knowing that her sister will pry the letter from her mind sooner or later, she finally hands it to her to inspect. Queenie breezes through its short contents multiple times as well, snorting at Newt’s propriety.

Eventually she looks up, a brilliant smile plastered on her face. 

“Oh, Teenie, he’s coming back! And so soon too! Isn’t it splendid?”

Tina nods mutely, elated. 

Queenie takes this as an opportunity to become mischievous, wiggling an eyebrow as she leans towards her.

“It’s a date, then?”

“Oh, shut it.”

Tina’s voice reappears as her sister turns away, giggling. 

Further antics are interrupted by a sharp rapping noise from the bedroom. Tina turns and peers through the open doorway to see a tiny bird perched on the fire escape, indignant eyes illuminated by the streetlight.

Rising and crossing into the bedroom, she unlatches the window to allow the bird to swoop inside. It lands instantly on the back of her chair in the kitchen, chirping expectantly. 

She lets out an amused sigh.

“You’re Charlie, I’d guess.”

The bird chirps in affirmative, but continues to fix her with a haughty look.

“Queenie, do we still have any of those cranberries?”

“We sure do!”

A glass bowl magicks itself over from the counter, and Tina plucks out a handful of berries, tossing them onto the table.

Charlie immediately falls upon them, gorging himself. In a matter of seconds, all the berries have been vacuumed down his tiny beak, and the bird then retires to sit atop Tina’s hat on the coatrack.

Queenie scrunches her nose in amusement as Tina rolls her eyes.

“A regular glutton. How cute!”

Returning the cranberry bowl to the counter, Tina retrieves the letter from where Queenie had set it, unable to stop herself from scanning over it once more.


	10. Chapter 10

“Oh, you’ve got to reply.”

“Queenie, don’t read my-“

“I’m not.”

Her sister glances at her with some earnestness. 

“Come on now, Teenie, it’s only proper. I’ll bet it’d relieve the poor man.”

Tina chews her lip, considerate.

“Besides, now you can impress him with that Occamy egg of yours!”

She cracks a grin at that, which Queenie returns. Disappearing into the bedroom, her sister reemerges clutching a roll of parchment and a quill pen. 

“Alright. Do it while it’s still fresh on your mind.”

Murmuring a word of thanks, Tina receives the materials and returns to sit at the table.

She decides to address the envelope first, copying her own information into the left corner before beginning to carefully transcribe Newt’s mailing address.

_Mr. Newt Scamander_  
_Beast Division_  
_The Ministry of Magic_  
_Whitehall, London_  
_England_  
_April 2nd, 1927_

Completing the envelope, her attention now turns to the blank parchment sheet before her. Almost immediately, she is struck with a twinge of self-consciousness. How should she even begin? 

_Dear Mr. Scamander,_ she scribbles down before she can overthink it. It’s how he’d addressed her, so she figures it’ll do the trick. 

_Thank you for your letter notifying me about your upcoming visit. Queenie and I anticipate you eagerly, and cannot wait to see the finished book. I’m sure it’ll be a masterpiece._  
_Your blackpoll warbler, Charlie, arrived this morning with your previous letter dated March 28th. He seems to have taken a liking to cranberries here, is that typical? At any rate, he’s fed and well, and is currently using my best work hat for a nest._  
_I have a beast matter of my own now. I’ve come into possession of what Queenie and I believe to be an Occamy egg. It does appear slightly larger and bluer than those I recall seeing in your case, but otherwise it seems very much like one. Perhaps you’ll have another familiar face awaiting you in New York when you arrive. Also, would it be appropriate to house said Occamy in our spare kettle if it hatches before your arrival? I’m not sure what we’d do with it otherwise. Thank you again for the communication, and until we meet again I remain_

_Yours,_

_Tina Goldstein_

Tina leans back as she finishes, pushing the letter away before she can scrutinize it further. It’s a bit awkward, she knows, but given the odd buzzing sensation that’s occupied her chest since she opened his letter, it’s the best she can do. 

Suddenly the parchment flies off the table, zipping past before she can retrieve it.

“Queenie!”

Her sister smirks from her seat on the counter, plucking the letter neatly out of the air.

“Just a once-over before you send it off.” 

Thankfully Queenie reads much of her writing in silence, until-

“Yours!”

“What?”

“You signed it ‘yours’!”

Tina springs from her chair, scurrying over as Queenie waves the parchment at her triumphantly.

“I did no such…”

She trails off, staring down at the letter in disbelief. Sure enough, in neat hand at the bottom of the page, she’s signed ‘Yours, Tina Goldstein’.

Her cheeks immediately flush a hot red, but somehow Queenie manages to vacate the counter and dash out of arm’s reach before she can snatch the letter back.

“It’s bold, Teenie! He’ll love it!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, give it-“

An excited series of chirps fill the air, and suddenly a small, feathery bullet is streaking about the room to add to the chaos. 

“What in the world…?”

Charlie the blackpoll warbler swoops between them, plucking the letter and envelope cleanly from Queenie’s grasp. With one final, squeaking note, the miniscule bird zooms out of the bedroom’s still-cracked window and vanishes into the night. 

For a moment both sisters freeze, transfixed, until Tina collapses heavily into a chair; unperturbed, Queenie lets out a delighted noise.

“Thatta girl, go get him!”

Tina buries her face in her hands, groaning.

Much to her sister’s chagrin, Queenie maintains her effervescent mood for the rest of the evening. Eventually, however, she betrays a gentle yawn, shooting Tina a final wink before retiring to bed.

Tina watches the bedroom door shut with a sigh before ambling over to her coat, carefully retrieving the egg along with the _Beastiarium Magicum._

Nestling the egg in her lap, she flips quickly to ‘Reptilian Ova’. The page is relatively covered in her annotations from earlier, so she spends several minutes reviewing the contents. Despite this, the information still seems relatively broad, and she finally resorts to a small summary she’d scribbled at the bottom of the page.

“Development requires a sustained heat source…close parental proximity appears to be maintained…incubation ranging from multiple weeks to several years depending on the beast…”

Tina rubs her temples in slow exasperation. Was she really going to have to tote this thing around for years?

Somewhat resigned, she rises, egg and book tucked under her arm. Cautiously pushing the bedroom door ajar, she observes that her sister has yet to fall sleep, instead reading sleepily by wandlight.

“Hey, Queenie?”

“Hm?”

“Do we still have that old bag of yours anywhere?”

Queenie appears somewhat puzzled by the request, but raises a lethargic hand in the direction of her dresser nonetheless. 

“Third drawer down, back left.”

“Thanks.”

Sneaking over, Tina edges open the drawer in question. A sizeable mountain of hosiery obscures the other contents, but she manages to retrieve the bag without too much trouble. 

Holding the thing up for a better view, she can’t help but scrunch her nose. The handbag is small but plenty gaudy, with glass beads clinging to every available surface. It’s much more Queenie’s taste than she’d like, but it’ll have to do, and she retreats to her bed with her wand in the other hand.

_“Capacious extremis.”_

The handbag gives a small tremor, and Tina cautiously unclasps it, slowly pushing a hand inside. Sure enough, the bottom is almost a foot deeper than before, and she sets the bag down beside her, satisfied. 

Retrieving the egg from her nightstand, she carefully drops it into the bag, where it settles at the plush bottom with a light thump. 

“Look at that. Newt would be proud.”

Tina snorts at the drowsy voice across from her.

“Night, Queenie.”


	11. Chapter 11

The next weeks pass with relative uneventfulness. 

Resuming her regular work schedule, Tina again finds herself swamped at her desk. Her typewriter is repaired, a fact that brings her mixed emotions, as it merely increases the amount of paperwork she’s expected to process daily.

The egg becomes her peculiar companion, which she keeps in her lap as she works. She becomes gradually more grateful for the Undetectable Expansion Charm she’d placed on the handbag, as the egg has started growing at an alarming rate, ballooning from roughly the size of her fists to the size of a dinner plate in hardly a week.

She’s also becoming increasingly anxious for a reply from Newt.

Tina tries to justify her nerves as related to the egg, but for all her efforts she knows this isn’t true. Often, when amid a particularly boring set of files, she finds herself counting the days to the end of the month, or wondering if he’s gotten her letter at all. Or more concerningly, if he has, what he thought of her response, let alone what he thought of her use of ‘Yours’...

Her troubles are abruptly interrupted in mid-April, when Queenie bursts into her office with a beaming smile. 

Tina gawks at her sister, unprepared for the intrusion as she pauses mid-type.

“Queenie? Is everything-“

“He wrote back!”

Before Tina has a chance to respond, her sister smacks an envelope down in front of her with enthusiasm. 

Sure enough, a golden ‘M’ glares up at her from the top left corner; her address is printed in blue scrawl below it and appears even more haphazard than previously. 

“How did you get this?”

Queenie seems annoyed by the question, instead motioning eagerly at the envelope.

“I got a late start this morning and managed to catch Charlie as I was leaving. Now go on, open it, open it!”

Tina doesn’t need telling twice, quickly scooping the parchment up off her desk and peeling the closure off with a certain jittery impatience.

The letter is short and seems to have been dashed off in a hurry. The parchment is crumpled, but the scrawling words are legible and she reads fervently.

_Dear Miss Goldstein,_

_I must apologize profusely for the lateness of my reply. I am afraid that putting the finishing edits into my book has been rather hectic; I’ve been relatively swamped with last-minute revisions for several weeks as the book goes to press tomorrow._  
_Thank you greatly for your response, and I assure you I await my arrival in New York with equal enthusiasm as you have expressed. I’m quite intrigued by this egg you’ve mentioned, did you say you believe it to be an Occamy? I do hope I arrive soon enough to help fully identify the beast before it hatches, although if it does prove to be an Occamy, your kettle should suffice as a temporary habitat. I expect to board passage to New York the day after tomorrow, and as ever I am_

At this point Tina’s eyes widen, and she feels a certain warmth flood her being as she gazes down at the bottom of the parchment. Though the rest of the letter had been jotted down in a quick hand, the closing statement is incredibly neat; clearly it had been written very deliberately. 

_Yours,_

_Newt Scamander_

Her eyes remain fixed on these words for several moments as her brain attempts to calculate the exact meaning of this, but then her reverie is broken by Queenie’s expectant voice. 

“Well?”

“He’s departing the day after tomorrow.”

Her sister claps excitedly, clearly pleased, before suddenly pausing and leaning forward over Tina’s desk.

“There’s something else. I can tell.”

“Um…”

“Come on, out with it!”

Tina hides a smile behind her hand, feeling very girlish in her delight, and finally spills.

“He signed it ‘yours’.”

Queenie squeals at this, a loud, high-pitched sound escaping her as she dances around the desk to embrace her sister.

“Oh, Teenie! That’s it then!”

Tina buries her reddening face in her sister’s shoulder.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s just trying to be pleasant.”

Queenie cuffs her lightly across the head at that, a rather incredulous scoff escaping her mouth.

“Don’t you tell lies.”

Tina finds herself increasingly distracted over the subsequent days, and Newt’s arrival approaches seemingly in a blur.

“How long does a ferry from England take to get here?”

She knows she’s asked Queenie this same question a dozen other times, but she can’t help checking and re-checking again, as if it’ll accelerate the remaining stretch. 

Thankfully her sister is indulgent of her antics, as it allows her endless fodder for teasing.

“Like I said earlier, he’ll be here in the morning.”

As ever, her answer does nothing to pacify Tina, who drums her fingers against their table anxiously before reaching for the beaded handbag and retrieving the egg. 

It’s roughly the size of a large blue watermelon, an observation that both alarms her and heightens her desire for Newt to arrive. She’s now fairly convinced that whatever it is certainly isn’t an Occamy.

She gazes at the egg a moment longer before hastily pushing it back into the bag, nearly tripping over the _Beastiarium Magicum _on her way to the shower.__

Queenie’s lilting laughter follows her from the kitchen as she leaves.


	12. Chapter 12

The following morning is one of the most frightening Tina’s ever had. 

She can’t seem to sit still or move about enough, eventually resorting to pacing around the kitchen as Queenie looks on in amusement. 

“You’re nervous.”

“I am not.”

The words come out snappily, but her sister appears unfazed, merely fastening her remaining earring with a smile. 

“You can wear one of my dresses.”

Tina pauses, momentarily confused.

“What?”

At this point, Queenie sighs, gliding over to rest an empathetic hand on her shoulder. The look on her face is unsettlingly knowing. 

“Aw, Teenie, it’s obvious you want to make a good appearance. Just take my blue dress.”

Tina looks away, but nods quickly. Queenie’s eyes narrow in a catlike fashion.

“And my stockings too, if you like.”

“Queenie!”

Her sister merely laughs, flitting away into the bathroom to acquire her makeup.

Tina remains for a moment in the kitchen, thinking, before hurrying into the bedroom. She glances briefly into the wall mirror at the simple, business-worthy outfit she’d selected for the occasion. 

It’s very proper, merely a bright, simple blouse with an equally unassuming skirt. She bites her lip. Maybe Queenie was right.

Hesitating, she approaches her sister’s dresser. The blue dress has been hung along the front, as if in temptation. Tina grabs it before she can falter, hurriedly stripping of her initial outfit and tossing the light fabric of the dress over her shoulders.

Returning to the wall mirror, she tries to deflect embarrassment at her appearance. 

The dress is quite like that which her sister had worn the last time he had been in New York. It’s significantly more fitted than anything she owns, the blue fabric falling in an empire cut at her waist while the capped sleeves leave much of her chest and arms exposed. 

Hastily, she tosses her coat on over the dress as Queenie emerges from the bathroom, superbly made up. She grins feistily at Tina’s discomfort.

“Total bombshell.”

Tina attempts a glower, but is too anxious to fully succeed and instead stares intently at the floor.

“What time does the boat come in?”

“Eleven-thirty, so you better get going!”

A streak of blank terror crosses Tina’s brain, and she throws Queenie a beseeching look.

“Come with me?”

Her sister huffs indignantly.

“Absolutely not! You’re an Auror, you should be able to handle a crush on your own.”

“I don’t have a crush.”

“Sure.”

Several minutes later, Tina is shoved out through the front door by an all too happy Queenie, rouge and lipstick having been applied liberally.

She manages to make it most of the way to the harbor without incident, but finds herself faltering as the sight of a ship comes into view across the water. Momentarily considering the instinct to flee, she instead steels herself into maintaining a forward path, scolding her own foolishness under her breath.

Leaning slowly against the guardrail as she arrives at the harbor’s disembarking area, Tina feels the peculiar urge to check her reflection in the water. She flushes slightly upon doing so, hurriedly scrubbing off as much makeup as she can with her coat sleeve. Queenie had made her into a tramp.

She jumps, startled, as the ship sounds its horn upon docking.

Oh, no.

Gripping the rail until her knuckles whiten, Tina is abruptly surrounded by scores of bustling people and cargo as the ship’s passengers flood onto the ramp. 

She cranes her neck, suddenly desperate. 

Where is he? She can’t find him. Is he here? He said he’d be here. 

Several minutes pass, and she’s beginning to think that maybe he hasn’t come, maybe his passage has been delayed, maybe he’s not coming at all, when-

“Oh, so sorry.”

Tina feels herself roughly jostled as a body hurries past her. 

Suddenly it’s as if she’s been frozen in place, because it can’t be, but it is.

Launching herself away from the rail, she tackles Newt into an embrace. 

He’s clearly caught wildly off guard, as they fall back against the railing, his suitcase clattering against the pavement. He remains stock-still for several moments, until it is clear she has no intention of letting go and he hazards a cautious return of the hug. 

“Miss Goldstein?”

She begins to laugh, burying the quiet sound into the familiar blue collar of his overcoat.

“Yes. Yes, it’s me.”

“Oh!”

Any remaining reservation immediately falters, and she momentarily fears being crushed against him as he embraces her with full enthusiasm. 

Several moments pass and then they release each other. He’s staring at her as though he can’t quite believe she’s in front of him, and she beams wordlessly, ecstatic.

“I didn’t think- I mean, I didn’t recognize, you look so-well you always look very-“

He splutters for an introduction, and then she’s laughing again, digging her fingers into the lapels of his coat. 

“I’ve missed you very much, Newt.”

He falls silent at this, finally breaking into a blazing smile.

“And I you, Miss Goldstein.”

“Please, just Tina.”

This throws him off again.

“Of course, I should’ve-well-“

Tina merely shakes her head, chuckling, and the last of her nerves disappear for good.

“Would you like to get something to eat?”

He nods slowly, eyes locked onto her.

“Something to eat. Yes, absolutely. Splendid.”


	13. Chapter 13

The nearby restaurants, however, all appear to be overpacked with No-Majs. She remembers that it is a Sunday morning with a grimace, apologizing to Newt as they duck inside a small coffee shop along 24th street. 

She can’t help but grin at the bemused look on his face as he inspects the American No-Maj pastries, poring over each one individually before selecting a blueberry scone at the end of the counter. 

Grabbing a muffin for herself, they hurry out along the street to the brownstone.

Pushing the door ajar, she allows Newt in first, where he stands with a lopsided but pleased expression as he gazes at the apartment. 

She enters as well and then curses quietly under her breath. Apparently, Queenie has seen fit to vacate the premises, leaving them quite alone. Newt appears to come to a similar realization, fixing his eyes noticeably on the floor as Tina attempts to repair the situation.

“Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes, of course.”

They consciously situate themselves at opposing ends of the table, fidgeting with the small paper bags from the shop as a silence forms.

At length, Tina endeavors to take a bite of her muffin, which Newt hastens to mirror with his scone. His face abruptly screws up in confusion, and she tries to stifle a laugh.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, yes, just-a bit nontraditional, you might say.”

He continues to chew with a thoroughly concentrated expression, and she rests her head on her hand, entertained. Apparently, the Americanization of the scone is bearable, as he finishes the rest of it quickly and returns his attention to her.

She finally allows herself to drink in his appearance, still incredibly familiar after four months. The ginger hair remains an untidy mess in front of his face, which holds more freckles than last time but the same bright green eyes. As ever, the worn blue overcoat obscures much of his clothing, which appear greatly like those she remembers from last time.

“Miss Gold- Tina?”

Shaking herself slightly, she reverts her attention to the present. He’s looking at her a bit curiously, but she attempts to play it off.

“Yes?”

“You said you were in possession an egg, in your letter?”

“Oh-yes, here, hold on-“

Leaning down to retrieve the small handbag, she places it squarely on the table. She unclasps it and plunges an arm in, which Newt observes with some amusement.

“Undetectable Extension Charm, yes?”

She grins in affirmative, finally producing the egg from the handbag’s depths.

Setting it gingerly before her, she recoils with some shock at its appearance. 

Though the egg’s large size has remained what it was the night before, its blue tinge has deepened into a rich teal that appears to gleam of its own accord. The shell seems to have crumpled over and against itself, producing the illusion of scales along its length, and small spines have developed at one end.

Glancing at Newt, she sees that he has suddenly gone very pale.

Nervously, she purses her lips.

“I swear this isn’t what it-“

“Tina, into the case. Now.”

He’s instantly kneeling, undoing the case’s clasps rapidly. Motioning her over, he ushers her inside with a harried look before clambering down himself, the egg tucked tightly under one arm.

“Newt?”

She’s quite alarmed, but he appears not to have heard, scattering various items off his workbench before retrieving something and hurrying out of the shed.

“What in the-“

Clambering after him, she finds him huddled over what appears to be a pewter cauldron directly behind the shed. 

She watches him deposit the egg carefully inside, before-

_“Incendio.”_

The cauldron bursts into flames, the egg disappearing behind tongues of fire, and she yelps.

“Newt!”

He finally turns to her, a look of haggard relief evident on his face.

“It’s alright now, Tina.”

“What in the name of Deliverance Day are you doing?”

Running a hand through his untidy hair, he beckons her slightly forward.

“That egg, you see, it’s a-“

Any further explanation is drowned out by an earsplitting crack, and suddenly the cauldron before them convulses as a pealing screech emanates forth.

Instinctively she grabs for his hand, which hangs limply by his side.

The cauldron shudders again, albeit less violently, and a small figure appears among the flames, shaking itself rapidly before clambering awkwardly onto the ground. 

Thin, membrane-like wings are tightly coiled at the beast’s sides, which are comprised of innumerable silver scales. The legs are spindly and long, as is the tail, which it lashes experimentally. Eventually it becomes aware that it is being observed and stares up curiously, large yellow eyes focused down the pointed snout and directly at Tina.

“Look at that, she knows who mummy is…”

When Newt speaks, it is with a peculiar cooing sound, and Tina swallows dryly.

“Newt, is that-”

He doesn’t look at her, his attention instead riveted to the new creature before him, but answers nonetheless.

“That’s a dragon, yes.”


	14. Chapter 14

Newt maintains the distance for several moments, holding Tina back subconsciously with his arm. 

It is the dragon who moves first, tiny paws fumbling underneath it as it crawls forward. The snout bobs as it snuffles at them, curious, and the thin tail flicks. 

This seems to encourage Newt, who then gently nudges Tina forward.

“Tina, I want you to approach her. Very slowly, no sudden movements.”

Scarcely daring to breathe, she nods slowly and inches towards the cauldron, a cautious hand extended in front of her.

The dragon lets out a shrill cry, and Tina has an immediate urge to recoil, but suddenly the tiny beast is bounding towards her on wobbly feet and winds itself about her legs.

“Very good. Very, very good Tina. Now pick her up.”

Tina’s head snaps around to Newt at this, disbelieving.

“What?”

He gesticulates at her, mimicking something like picking up a cat. 

“Go on, she won’t hurt you.”

Tina stares down at the dragon, which is now keening quietly up at her with an earnest look.

Bending down slowly, she carefully wraps her hands around the creature’s midsection and hoists it up to eye level. The dragon seems pleased by this, nuzzling a scaly cheek into her wrist with another cry.

Tina feels herself soften somewhat, offering the beast a cautious smile.

Abruptly the dragon begins to shudder, and Tina thrusts her arms away from her just in time to avoid the small jet of flame that escapes from the creature’s jaws as it coughs.

“Newt!”

His voice is sheepish as he replies.

“Sorry, sorry! I should’ve anticipated, she’s just clearing out the last of the amniotic fluid.”

The dragon squirms and chirps once more, but this time the sound is more urgent as it fixes Tina with a imploring stare. She finds herself scratching its chin with a cautious finger, noticing that the skin there is far softer than the surrounding scales. 

“Oh, she’s hungry.”

“What?”

Breaking from her brief mesmerized state, she turns to see Newt grinning lopsidedly at her.

“She’ll be hungry, after hatching. Follow me.”

Cradling the dragon to herself, she climbs the steps back up the shed slowly. Upon entering, she finds Newt already toiling at his workbench, evidently hacking at a bulky slab of animal meat.

Dicing a larger portion into cubes, he passes her a handful. 

“Open palm, now, like a horse. You don’t want any of her fangs catching you.”

Tina does as instructed, placing a chunk of meat into her open palm. The dragon considers it briefly before scooping it up in one bite, tiny head bobbing as it forces the meat down its gullet.

Four more cubes are devoured in quick succession before the dragon is sated, stretching its jaws in a miniscule yawn before clambering up onto Tina’s shoulders and closing its eyes. She observes this with a twinge of affection.

“So it’s a girl, you think?”

“Yes, quite. Look at the pectoral scales, see, the darkness of them gives it away.”

He leans against the workbench quietly, staring at the dragon with a look of fascination. 

“You should name her.”

Tina hesitates.

“Me? You’re the one-“

Newt holds up a hand, smirking. 

“Absolutely not. Your dragon, your responsibility.”

She glances around, perplexed.

“What do I name her?”

“Anything you like.”

Her eyes catch on a dusty tea box along the nearest shelf, its label printed in clean script. It’s not such a bad title, she decides, squinting to make out the words.

“Fl…Florence.”

Newt’s mouth twitches.

“Florence?”

“Yes.”

She peers at him, daring him to challenge her, but he appears to take it in stride. 

“Florence it is, then.”

He reaches up to scratch the sleeping dragon’s cheek, gazing at the little face musingly.

Observing this, Tina garners the courage to change the subject.

“Newt?”

“Hm?”

She chews her lip.

“Is there a reason you were so, well...tense when I showed you the egg?”

He snorts at this.

“Do you mean, other than the fact that you had dragon stuffed down your purse?”

“Yes.”

He retracts his hand, moving to settle against the ladder on the opposite wall.

“Florence isn’t your run-of-the-mill dragon, Tina. No, she’s a very specific breed. Very specific.”

He sighs and rubs a palm against his cheek before continuing.

“When I was in the war-I did fight in the war, you know, everyone fought in the war-I had a position on the Eastern Front, working with dragons.”

“There were dragons in the war?”

“Oh, scores of them-you don’t wage war without ruining as many innocents as possible.”

He sounds bitter, and Tina notices his gaze drift to the wall behind her.

“The Ministry used them as a sort of Air Corps, like the Muggles do, but they really only wanted to use what they considered the most ‘effective’- you know, biggest, hottest flames, most vicious. They wanted Ukrainian Ironbellies.”

There is a pause in which Tina draws a realization.

“So Florence…”

“A Ukrainian Ironbelly, yes. Exceedingly rare these days-I thought we’d all but driven them to extinction in the war, with the numbers we never recovered from the field.”

She glances down at the dragon napping peacefully on her shoulder.

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes.”

A pensive silence forms until Newt manages to give her a smile, clearly desiring to move the conversation away from the topic. 

“Well, at any rate, I know there’s at least one breeding female left. Not quite as dire as I’d initially feared.”

Hopping down from his perch on the ladder, he beckons her to the shed’s door.

“Come along. Let’s get little Florence settled, shall we?”


	15. Chapter 15

They end up roosting the dragon in the now-vacant Thunderbird habitat; Newt explains that the heat and magically conjured sands adequately resemble the environment of typical Ironbelly territory.

Despite this, Tina feels a twinge of regret as she detaches the sleeping creature from her shoulder, placing her gently atop the rock spire at the center of the enclosure.

“She’ll be alright. The parents typically leave the hatchlings while they hunt, hidden in the dunes and such.”

She nods at Newt’s reassurance, giving the dragon’s head a final scratch before stepping away.

He watches her descend the habitat’s steps with a grin.

“Now, I’ve got several other creatures to attend to, if you’d be so kind.”

The next long bit is spent toiling in and between various enclosures. Tina remembers many of the beasts from her previous stint inside the case, but there are also multiple she’s never seen before. 

“What is that?”

She whispers slowly, one hand clamped securely around a bucket of Sopophorous pellets while the other motions cautiously to a large, luminescent creature rooting about in the nearby undergrowth. Newt follows her gesture.

“That is a fire crab. Feisty little buggers. Their shells are made of jewels, so they’re quite aloof-“

His explanation is cut off as something tiny and green springs from the surrounding foliage, landing on his head with a furious chatter. Newt manages to manhandle the creature off, regarding it with a smirk.

“Pickett! There you are, you rascal!”

The bowtruckle pulls an indignant face.

“Sorry, sorry-I knew I’d lost you somewhere around here.”

He attempts to pacify Pickett by thrusting him at Tina.

“Never mind that-Pick, you remember Miss Goldstein?”

Newt’s efforts merely garner a noncommittal chatter, and the bowtruckle clambers up his arm and down into his waistcoat haughtily.

“Sorry about him, I’m afraid I’ve hurt his feelings again.”

She merely laughs, a clear, contented sound that dumbfounds him.

Eventually they are interrupted by a knocking sound emanating from the case’s ceiling. Tina looks up in confusion.

“What was that?”

“Someone must be looking for us.”

Trailing back through the habitats and into the shed, Tina clambers up the ladder behind Newt and exits the case to see Queenie’s pleased face gazing at her. 

“There you are! I was wondering where you’d run off to.”

Newt rises first, dusting his coat off as he inclines his head to Queenie.

“Miss Goldstein. Pleasure to see you again.”

Queenie grins broadly as she immediately wraps him in a suffocating embrace.

“Newt! How wonderful, Teenie’s been absolutely morose without you.”

Despite Tina’s withering glare, Queenie manages to shoot her sister a wink over Newt’s shoulder.

“Oh, do come sit down, I’ve already got dinner started.”

It seems that Queenie has gone all out for the occasion, as the apartment’s small table has been laden with half a dozen of her best dishes.

“Queenie, you realize there’s only three of us here.”

Her sister shrugs, unconcerned.

“Nothing wrong with a spread, Teenie!”

As expected, every dish is delicious. Tina observes Newt tuck into a vegetable pie with gusto, slightly guilty. She should’ve taken him for a proper meal earlier. Newt himself, however, seems quite satisfied, if a bit awkward in conversation.

“Er, Miss Goldstein-“

“Queenie.”

Her sister’s correction is gentle, but Newt apologizes anyway.

“Yes, Queenie, sorry- would you have any news on Mr. Kowalski?”

Queenie smiles, propping her face eagerly atop her hands as she considers her favorite topic of conversation.

“Aw, sweet of you to ask. He’s doing very well, really, the bakery is incredible. Would you believe he’s considering a second branch…”

Queenie continues enthusiastically, updating Newt on everything from Jacob’s menu items to her opinion of his bakery employees. Tina, having already heard this information a dozen times, contents herself to watch Newt, who is politely attentive to every word. It’s more than a little endearing. 

Ultimately, however, she feels the amusing obligation to extricate him from her sister’s talkative clutches. Queenie could go on about Jacob for hours, and Newt’s nowhere rude enough to disentangle himself from her stream of consciousness. 

Making a great show of pushing her chair back, Tina fixes her sister with a look. 

“Queenie, don’t you think it’s getting late?”

Her sister pouts but rises nonetheless.

“Oh, alright. You’re no fun.”

Turning, she addresses Newt with a much brighter expression.

“Newt, would you like me to make the couch up for you? Or you can take my bed, if you like.”

He seems utterly bewildered by these options, glancing at Tina rather consciously.

“Oh-no, that won’t be necessary- I’d anticipated sleeping in my case, if that’s alright.”

Queenie smiles warmly as Tina avoids his gaze.

“Whatever you’d prefer.”


	16. Chapter 16

Sleep comes ridiculously slowly to Tina that night. 

She tosses in bed, oddly preoccupied. Queenie had offered him her bed, hadn’t she? That must’ve just been a ploy to rile her up, surely. But what if? What if he had taken the offer up, would he really be lying just across from her? 

No, of course not, he wouldn’t. She’s being ridiculous.

Scolding herself, she finally drifts off into a fitful sleep.

“Tina!”

“Newt…”

She mumbles rather incoherently at his voice, dreaming, until a quick shake startles her.

“Tina, wake up!”

Bolting upright, she finds herself inches away from Newt Scamander’s face.

“Newt! What the-“

“She won’t calm down.”

“What?”

Blearily flicking the lamp on beside her, Tina attempts to gain her bearings.

Newt is still leaning towards her, harassed expression evident. His face appears oddly singed, as does his shirt, and she stares at him in confusion as he repeats himself.

“Florence won’t calm down. She won’t sleep, she won’t eat.”

Tina becomes rather aware of the proximity between them, quickly exiting her bed and throwing her coat on over her thin pajamas with a blush. Fiddling with the collar, she regains composure before turning back to Newt, who evidently hadn’t realized a thing in his preoccupation.

“Alright, then- I guess I’ll see what I can do.”

Leaving a still-snoring Queenie to sleep, she follows him out into the living area.

His case lays open on the floor, and he hurries down quickly with her in tow. 

Immediately upon entering the shed, Tina notices signs of disarray. Bottles and canisters lie about the floor, as if knocked off frantically. Several areas of the walls and workbench have been singed, and there are shallow clawmarks leading out the door.

She furrows her brows.

“What happened?”

“Florence had a bit of a tantrum. She’s out here.”

Ducking out the door, Tina’s eyes find a peculiar scene.

Flurries of several creatures swoop, saunter, and gallop past, clearly having burst out of their enclosures. A few seem to have congregated around a tall structure of rock off to the side, where she can see Dougal the demiguise attempting to reason with some other animal. He suddenly moves back as if in recoil, and she sees Florence huddled against the rock face, eyes large and afraid as black smoke pours from her snout.

In a sudden burst of protective instinct, Tina marches directly out into the midst of the chaos, leaving Newt behind her.

Striking a wide stance in front of the rock, she brings her fingers to her mouth and whistles, loud and piercing.

Abruptly, all the surrounding creatures freeze to stare at her.

“Alright! I want silence, please. Everyone, move away from the dragon.”

As if by magic, the beasts obey, melting back into the surroundings as Tina clambers up the rocks and towards Florence.

She coos softly as she approaches, and Dougal silently allows her to pass. Florence remains skittish, bunched against the rock.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Mama’s here.”

Florence peeps back at her, a small, scared sound.

“Shhhh. Come on now, it’s just mama.”

Slowly, the tiny dragon unfurls herself, snuffling cautiously as she creeps towards Tina.

“Good girl. That’s it.”

She manages to reach out and scratch Florence’s cheek, which reassures the creature immensely. Cheeping, she crawls up Tina’s arm to settle on her shoulder, where she continues to pet her. 

Finally, the dragon’s eyes flutter under the continued stroking, and she relaxes into a shallow doze against Tina’s neck.

Tina smiles tenderly, a warm, maternal sort of instinct welling in her chest as she climbs slowly back down to ground level.

Newt’s still standing beside the shed, clearly floored. Tina’s skin crawls at the look of unbridled admiration brimming in his expression, but she can’t seem to look away as she approaches him.

“So was that okay, do you think-“

He closes the rest of the distance between them, the awe on his face turned blazing, and then he’s kissing her.

Tina’s immobilized for an instant, completely and utterly stunned, but then she finds herself working a hand up into his hair and she’s kissing him back, like she should’ve kissed him when he’d arrived, should’ve kissed him four months ago when he’d left.

They cling to each other for a long moment, enraptured, until Florence blows a jet of drowsy smoke from Tina’s shoulder and awakens with a chirp.

She is the one to pull away at this, and Newt continues to hold her as she shushes the dragon, his voice coming slowly and reverently.

“Absolutely incredible.”


	17. Epilogue

The steam surrounding the boarding dock is thick, but Tina peers up through the haze anyway, a twinge of trepidation in her chest.

New York is her blood, born and raised. She’s never left the city before, much less the country, but now here she is, bundled and packed with a ferry pass to England. 

“Are you going to be alright here?”

She turns, her words coming out more tremulously than she’d like. Queenie nods, but Tina can see the tears pricking her sister’s eyes even as she smiles.

“Don’t worry about me, Teenie. I’m a big girl.”

Queenie pauses, but then continues as if to persuade herself.

“Besides, it’s only a couple of months. You’ll be back before summer’s out.”

Tina nods wordlessly, her eyes fixed on her sister as she fights back her own emotions.

Finally, she gives in, enveloping Queenie in a tight hug as the tears spill forth. Her sister snuffles into her shoulder unashamedly, gripping her back.

A deafening hornblast from the ship breaks them of their daze, and Queenie shoves her towards the gangplank with a watery laugh, makeup ruined.

“You go get ‘em, Teenie. Those Ministry people won’t know what they're up against.”

Tina allows herself one slow, final wave before climbing up the plank to board the ferry.

Newt’s standing at the boat entrance, suitcase in hand and grinning wonderfully as she approaches.

“Ready, then?”

“I still can’t believe the President approved me for a Magizoology liaison trip.”

He shakes his head at that, unconcerned, and glances at the small red book in her hands.

She looks down as well, beaming at the golden lettering of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ as the sunlight glints off the glossy cover .

“Don’t worry. You’re a natural.”

She reaches out and grabs his free hand affectionately, smiling despite herself as he squeezes her back.


End file.
